


i could make you stay (in another life)

by thegirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Margaery centric, Robbaery - Freeform, What-If, musings, wistfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl/pseuds/thegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery never met Robb Stark, but she wonders about him more often than she thinks she should. No harm now, of course, now she’ll never know him.</p><p>But they said he looked like his sister, his sweet, scared sister with her downcast eyes and flame hair. They said he had a direwolf at his side, as tall as a horse with terrible teeth and claws. They said he was merciful to those deserving. They said he was vengeance personified. They said he was never going to die - of course, until he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could make you stay (in another life)

**Author's Note:**

> So I just said I wouldn't be posting for a while, and I'm not, I just found this in my files and realized it was as done as it ever was going to be - so here you go. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also: title taken from the Katy Perry song 'The One That Got Away'. Don't look at me like that.

In another life, perhaps Margaery would have only married once.

Perhaps she would have been touched as a woman not a war prize, perhaps she would have been bored with that, perhaps she wouldn't have known what to do with herself if she wasn't in a court. But Margaery can’t imagine being bored with that, as long as she was loved.

Grandmother said love was a fool’s fancy, but Margaery didn’t like to think that Grandmother was always right, because if she was, then the world was a terrible place, and Margaery wasn’t ready for it to be quite so terrible yet.

Margaery sometimes wonders if Renly hadn’t been the way he was, whether he’d have loved her not Loras. So many people said they were practically the same person - perhaps he’d have been good to her. Joffrey - even his name sends a shiver down her spine. She imagines waking up to him in the mornings, their child with bloody hands and dead sparrows strung around her neck like a noose.

Tommen is sweeter than his brother, but he’s  a child, and she wonders if she’ll ever be unable to think of him as such - if he ever makes it out of childhood, a cynical part of her brain mutters (she hears the whispers of the dragons in the east, the queen across the sea, as well as anyone else).

Margaery never met Robb Stark, but she wonders about him more often than she thinks she should. No harm now, of course, now she’ll never know him.

But they said he looked like his sister, his sweet, scared sister with her downcast eyes and flame hair. They said he had a direwolf at his side, as tall as a horse with terrible teeth and claws. They said he was merciful to those deserving. They said he was vengeance personified. They said he was never going to die - of course, until he did.

He was younger than she, she thinks suddenly and her stomach churns.

Younger when he died at dinner, younger when his father died, younger when they placed a crown too heavy on his head, younger when they hacked his head off and sewed his direwolf’s in its place.

In another life, she’d have liked to have known him.

In another life, perhaps they’d have smiled at each other at a banquet and Loras would have teased her into talking to him, perhaps her father may have approved because his sister was to be queen so if she couldn’t be, then what was the point? Perhaps she could have shown him Highgarden, and he could have got freckled cheeks from the sun people said the North never saw.

Perhaps she’d like the North. She’d never been there before, although she’d never known true cold. Perhaps she’d like Winterfell, she liked all she’d heard of it from Sansa. She liked the sound of the glass gardens, the hot springs, the practice yard and the Weirwood, the sept and the dragon that slept down in the depths of the crypts.

Perhaps she’d give him an heir like everyone needed, and he’d love her. She’d love him, she knows she would love anyone really, if given the chance.

Perhaps she’d grow to be loved. Perhaps she’d be the jewel of the north, and the Reach would prosper due to her work. Perhaps her mother would smile at how well she’s done for herself and Grandmother would say she’s better than she ever was, and father would forget about placing a crown on her head when he saw how happy she was.

And she would be happy. Perhaps. In another life.

Sansa makes her happy, and she could bring some of her cousins, and she knows Sansa had a sister and two brothers other than Robb, and the bastard that was at the Wall, but Sansa said hopefully, knotting her fingers, one day she’d go home (the word wistful on the girl’s wishing tongue) and he could come visit for a little while.

Perhaps that could still happen to Sansa. Sansa who disappeared into the undergrowth, Sansa who flew away like a little bird, like Cersei always called her, for Sansa there was all the time in the world.

Perhaps Margaery could help.

But not for her, not Margaery, because now Margaery is the queen, the queen like father always said she had to be, she has no children and three husbands now and her time in the sun is ticking, down, down-

In another life, Margaery could have been happy. But not, she believes, in this one.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please review and leave kudos if you enjoyed reading this, it means so much to me :)


End file.
